Listening for the Rain

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Nine o’clock seems the time to retrieve consciences. The repetitive syndrome seems to reappear. Awakening to liquid and a lighted word, wrapped in old clothing. Taking a look around the foliage and detecting the delicate changes while preparing for another long voyage. Strange sense awakens the thought that this could be the last time of viewing the familiar. Crumbling over the long gravel road to the city. Stop to review the cloud patterns and the change in seasons. Deep breathe and begin Yesterdays news is resting in plastic wrap awaiting someone to unfold and review what is already known. And the hill waits. Sunday pattern turns a different direction. More traffic than normal, but patience is a virtue. Indian summer brings dripping water but a smile at the refresh station. A turn and down the opulent neighborhood to two lads walking in the sunshine. Another turn to another slow downhill past the volumes of knowledge with an unused card. The dogs don’t bark here. And the hill waits. Traveling onward into the darkness of the last shade enjoying the waterfall of leaves. The street is paved now but the way is still bumpy. Fresh smells of coffee with the clink of dishes and conversations at a pause for light. The children play in the sunshine. Another rider passes in more of a hurry or to meet a tattooed deadline. And the hill waits. Perhaps taking a different route as last week, but return to the lane of streetlights. No one is walking? The shirt and sweatshirt is wet now. This is supposed to be fall. Wait for traffic when the street narrows. And the hill waits. A final water break is taken before the assent that stands before. Not a remarkably tall or even evil climb, but a constant incline bears witness to last weeks overwhelming attempt to catch air. Today was a continuous push without shifting gears or stopping. Success! Glide back into the quiet and remove the traveling equipment.

Another morning travel to refresh the mind and body.

Tonight, with the streetlight flashing off and on and the neighbor coming home to let her dogs pee and the other neighbor putting up candle lights and the runner going down the street while the jet flies overhead, the carpet of leaves catch the first sound of the rain that was felt earlier. Rocking and resting and listening for the rain.